


Eyes turned skyward

by FancifulRivers



Category: Death Note
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - No Death Note, First Meetings, Flying, M/M, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9746555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: L hates flying.Light makes it better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from otpprompts:
> 
> "Person A is one of those semi-miserable people that like sitting in the window seat of the airplane just so they have an excuse not to talk to whoever sits next to them. Contradictorily, they also like to chant “please sit next to me” in their head at whoever they thought was cute. However, when Person B takes a seat next to them, they’re breathless. A struggles for something to say and stutters once they started a conversation, but A and B quickly warm up to each other. Perhaps a bit too quickly. Maybe they even try to make it to the mile-high club. You decide."

You hate flying.

You don't get travel sickness. You aren't afraid of being up in the air, either- in fact, you quite like the window seat. It's relaxing to look outside at the white puffs of clouds and the thin blue sky and realize just how far up you really are.

No, what you really hate is the lack of  _control_. That, and the people. You hate strangers sitting next to you. Elbows digging into your side, whiny voices asking pointless questions, water spills and airplane food crumbs.

It's terrible and you also don't admit, even to yourself, that you want  _some_ people to sit next to you. Perhaps. If they know how to hold a decent conversation and keep their limbs to themselves. If your mind isn't ten steps and four curves ahead of them.

"Is this seat taken?" You look up and there's a man standing there. More of a boy, really, he looks caught in between, with very carefully tousled brown hair and eyes that are strangely sharp. You are acutely aware of the shadows smudged beneath your eyes and the bird's nest of your hair.

"Is it the seat on your ticket?" You shoot back, and you are rewarded with a slow, blooming smile as he folds himself into the seat next to you. His bag fits under the seat and he seems content to sit there quietly, occupied with his own amusements.

Perversely, you are discontent with this.

"Do you like to fly?" You ask, and it's a stupid question, but you can't think of any others. It isn't your fault; your deductive reasoning always drops below a certain percentage when you're forced to cram yourself into an airplane seat.

"Not particularly," he answers, but he doesn't sound like he minds the cessation of silence. "Do you?"

"In a way," you dissemble. "I like watching the sky."

"Oh, is that why you've taken the window?" He asks, amused. Your cheeks burn, ever so slightly, as you nod. "I'm Light Yagami. And you?" He proffers a fine-boned hand to you and you take it.

"Call me L," you say, and he looks delighted.

"Are you really?"

"Perhaps," you tell him. It feels odd to admit, when you aren't on a case. You like your privacy. "But who likes talking about work?"

He apologizes (of course) and you keep talking. He's as well read as you are, and you spend hours conversing, heads bent close together as you argue over this point or that. It's with real regret you break apart when the flight attendant says that you'll be landing shortly.

"What do you have after?" You ask, because you don't want this to be over.

"Nothing that's pressing," he admits. "You?"

"Nothing at all," you say truthfully. His hand brushes yours, and slow-burning heat licks at your spine.

"How would you like to get a coffee somewhere?" Light asks. You smile at him.

"I'd be delighted," you say.


End file.
